English poetry

Poems in English


Complaint

They call me and I go.
It is a frozen road
Past midnight, a dust
Of snow caught
In the rigid wheeltracks.
The door opens.
I smile, enter and
Shake off the cold.
Here is a great woman
On her side in the bed.
She is sick,
Perhaps vomiting,
Perhaps laboring
To give birth to
A tenth child. Joy! Joy!
Night is a room
Darkened for lovers,
Through the jalousies the sun
Has sent one golden needle!
I pick the hair from her eyes
And watch her misery
With compassion.


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Poem Complaint - William Carlos Williams